


Bad boy

by orphan_account



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Badboy milford, Human AU, M/M, idk mid-20th century vibe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26800657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sportacus is working on his uncle’s farm when a mysterious stranger appears
Relationships: Sportacus/Milford Meanswell
Kudos: 3





	Bad boy

Sportacus wiped his brow on his sleeve as he finally stood up straight again, his back aching after toiling for hours on his uncle’s farm. The sun hung heavily in the sky, its rays uncomfortably hot on his back. He needed to get back inside for a drink before he developed heatstroke. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he jogged to the edge of the field, exiting through the gate so he could walk along the road—it was faster than going through the fields themselves, and he wouldn’t have to worry about taking a wrong turn either. As he daydreamed though, the sound of an engine crept over the hill behind him, buzzing louder as it approached. Sportacus wasn’t much of an engineer; no, that was far more his uncle’s area of expertise, but even he could recognise the sound of a motorbike engine, and he turned around in interest. They never got many strange vehicles in these parts, not when they were as far away from the nearest city as his uncle’s farm happened to be.

As the bike zoomed even closer, Sportacus tipped his hat in greeting. Politeness was in his nature after all. To his surprise though, the bike slowed, coming to a halt right beside him. Sportacus stared, surprised, at the figure, his own face reflected back to him in the rider’s helmet. Up close, the rider was striking, he wore tight jeans and a leather jacket, but a beige tartan bowtie around his neck. As he removed his helmet, Sportacus’ breath caught in his throat. The man was older than he’d anticipated, but just as attractive, his grey hair effortlessly tousled.

“My, you wouldn’t happen to know the way to the city, would you?” The man asked, his gaze raking over Sportacus, like he was tearing him apart. Sportacus swallowed.

“It’s that way,” he pointed into the distance, acutely aware of the blush colouring his cheeks, “An hour or so, give or take.”

“Thank you,” the man paused.

“Sportacus,” he offered, and the man smiled slowly.

“Well thank you Sportacus, I’ll be on my way,” he said as he clicked his helmet back into place, starting the engine and speeding away again down the lane. A cloud of dust flew up in his wake, dirtying Sportacus’ pale blue shirt, but he found he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind at all.


End file.
